


Play the Game

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 7th year, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Party Game, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Truth or dare gets a little out of hand.
Relationships: Sirius Black/James Potter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 140
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	Play the Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maurauve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maurauve/gifts).



> Written for Maurauve for my 100th Fic Drabble Prompts (and as you can see, 'drabble' was a lie because of who I am as a person). Maurauve prompted me with: James/Sirius; Truth or Dare gets really out of hand when two of the participants need to outdo the other. This story also doubles as a rare pair for the Love Fest over at Fairest of the Rare on Facebook! #LoveFest #TeamAphrodite
> 
> Much love, as ever, to the wonderful mcal, who never fails to build up my confidence when I'm ready to crawl into a hole. <3

“My hair’s the color of a gherkin!”

“You’ve shrunken my bits!”

“Well, you started it!”

“You started it!”

Sirius shakes his head of long, gherkin-colored hair and slaps his hands down onto his thighs. They’ve been sitting in a circle in the middle of the Gryffindor common room for most of the night; firewhiskey flowing between them and playing the dastardliest game of Truth or Dare he’d ever played. He swipes at the glass bottle as it’s passed over and takes a mouthful. He only winces for a moment; he’s used to the sting on his lips and the warmth as it slides down his throat. Once the alcohol settles in his stomach, he narrows his eyes at his best friend—sitting across from him and looking like a complete dickhead—and points his finger.

“You, Prongs.  _ You _ started this!” Sirius thrusts the bottle of whiskey to Lily, who promptly passes it over to Peter, and lifts himself onto his knees. “You dared me to chase that house elf through the corridors and confess my love for it.”

The circle of their friends—Lily, Peter, Remus, James, Alice, Frank, and Marlene—laugh at Sirius’ expense. All of them. Except James, whose lips frown and brows furrow. “That was after you dared me to moon the entirety of the school on the Quidditch Pitch last weekend,” he said with no inflection in his voice whatsoever. “And before that, you forced me to reveal my feelings for—” he jerks his head toward a blushing redhead and grimaces. “So, no. It’s not me that started this fiasco.”

Sirius raises his hands and drops them back down at his sides. “You really don’t remember?  _ Before _ all of that?”

The room is quiet now. Sirius can feel the weight of every stare upon his person, but he refuses to look anywhere else but at James. Because he remembers; he remembers how warm those pouty lips are and how breathless he sounds after being properly snogged. He still can’t shake the feeling of strong, calloused hands raking through his hair, or the way James’ tongue had felt against the stubbled chin of his jaw.

James lowers his eyes to the ground, cheeks flushing as he swipes the rogue, raven hair off his forehead. He says nothing even as Remus passes the bottle of firewhiskey to him. Just sips it once, twice, and gulps a third time.

“Right.” Sirius sighs and leans back on his haunches. Marlene hands him the whiskey and Sirius finishes what’s left in one, overambitious swallow. “Wish I knew what too much whiskey felt like.” He forces a rough chuckle and rubs at his chest—it aches, like someone has stabbed him just shy of his heart. “Alas, I’m a drunkard and a knave, so I’ll never have that excuse.”

He tosses the empty bottle to the middle of their circle and pushes himself up onto his feet. He’d never admit that the room spins around him and even as Lily tries to stand and help him keep upright, he swats her hand away and grins to try and reassure her.

“Sirius, let me help.” Her hand encircles his elbow, but he shrugs her off. 

“S’alright…” he pats the top of her head like she’s a cat, and stumbles away towards his dormitory.

The steps are a fucking nightmare, but somehow, he winds up lying on his bed fully clothed and with his stupid green hair splayed out on his crimson pillow. He squeezes his eyes shut and ignores the churn in his stomach—which is most definitely not because he’d finally confronted James about their last game of Truth or Dare.

“Fucking— _ unf _ —” Something hits the floor hard—James, he thinks—and curses fill the silence. “Padfoot? Pads? You awake, mate?”

Sirius doesn’t answer. Instead, he pretends to sleep while James mumbles an incoherent string of words over by his own bed. It isn’t until Sirius feels warm, calloused hands on his forehead that his eyes pop open and he’s staring straight into those wide, hazel eyes.

“You’re in the wrong bed.” James pulls his glasses off and sticks them carefully on the bedside table.

“Am I?” Sirius makes a noise in the back of his throat and plants a smirk on his face while his eyes flutter shut again.

James nudges him, and Sirius scoots himself to the side. There’s not a lot of room on these beds, but it’s not as if they hadn’t ever slept in them together before. He isn’t afraid of  _ touching  _ James—in fact, he has spent quite a bit of time thinking of nothing else lately.

He feels James’ stare on his face; it’s warm like sunshine and uncomfortable like sleet. “Truth or dare?”

Sirius doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move, doesn’t do much of anything except swallow around the large knot in his throat and wait.

“Sirius.” There’s a hand in his once-handsome hair, pushing it away from his closed eyes. “Please. Play the game. Truth or dare?”

His lips barely crack open. “Truth.”

A breath, and he knows there’s a smile that follows it because he  _ knows _ Prongs. Knows that doofy, proud of himself vibe he emits when he gets his way. “Do you regret… last weekend?”

Sirius scoffs, his brows form a notch but he still doesn’t open his eyes. “I regret nothing when it comes to you.”

Whiskey-scented breath fans across his face in a sharp burst. “Do you… want to try again?”

Sirius makes a sound, somewhere between a cluck and a tut, and opens his eyes to find James staring down at him. “That’s not how the game works, you knobhead. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Sirius raises a brow—if he’d wanted a repeat of last weekend, James should have chosen dare; he’d give him a repeat and some. “How drunk are you right now?”

The chuckle that follows lights Sirius ablaze and his dark eyes follow the way James tries to hold back another monstrous grin. “Drunk enough not to care that you’ve shrunken my bits, not so drunk that I’m not worried about what snogging my best mate will do to our friendship.”

“It only got weird when you made it weird.” Sirius points to his gherkin-hair.

“No, that’s a normal dare. What’s not a normal dare is baring my arse to the entire school.”

“Disagree.”

“Shrinking my…  _ area _ ?”

“Jolly fun.”

“Forcing me to tell Lily that I’m in love with her?” James grinds his teeth. “And you know that hasn’t been true since the end of sixth year. I gave up. I’m moving on.”

Sirius sobers. Of course he knows that; he’d listened to James prattle on about it all fucking summer. “Are we still playing the game or has this turned into a Potter Pity Party?”

James glances to the ceiling, then down again. “Fine.” He bites out the word and sighs. “Truth or dare?”

Holding his gaze, Sirius takes a deep breath and prepares himself for the worst. “Go on, then. Dare.”

His face is impossibly close. So close, Sirius can see the shadow of stubble lining James’ jaw and the flecks of green in his hazel eyes even in the darkness that ensconces their dormitory. He can see every silver scar courtesy of Moony and every knick from his razor along the soft skin of his upper lip. He knows what’s coming, can feel the words before James says anything, and he has every opportunity to stop them before they sweep against his face in a hushed breath.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

They hold one another’s gaze for several seconds until Sirius glances down to those parted, inviting lips and he’s done for. He wraps his hand around James’ neck and pulls him down. There’s no gentleness to be found; it’s a bruising kiss, one filled with all of the anger that’s occupied him for the past week. It isn’t fair that he’s been suffering silently, wondering if this inappropriate pining is one sided or, indeed, appropriate after all. He wants James to feel his every emotion as it courses through him and into their kiss.

James strokes him in firm, demanding curls of his tongue and draws a desperate noise from the back of his throat. It takes less than a minute for James to shift his body and crush Sirius into the mattress. It’s frantic snogging, heavy breathing, and a battle for control as their hips collide. The friction nearly does Sirius in; his body pitches up, knees falling to the side to allow James room between his legs.

It’s gone so far beyond just playfully kissing a friend to save face for a game, it’s well beyond confusion over finding his best mate attractive. Sirius doesn’t ever want this to stop; he’s so close to coming in his trousers and he can feel the way James’ muscles tense above him. They can’t take this back, can’t pretend this hasn’t happened. They’re rushing for their climax without care for the fallout.

James rips his mouth away and buries his face into the crook of Sirius’ neck. “Sirius—”

Sirius drags his hands off James’ hips and takes his arse in his hands, pressing him close and hard. He groans against the shoulder that’s shoved against his mouth and spills himself against the silky fabric of his pants.

He doesn’t want James to move, doesn’t want to look into his eyes to see the horror of what they’ve done and what it means. He’s afraid to see regret shining back at him and so Sirius refuses to pull his head back when he feels James turn his chin to the side and press a soft kiss against his temple.

“Hey.” James whispers into his ear, a gentle attempt to coax Sirius out of his thoughts; it’s a tactic he’s used before, but this is so much different—this isn’t running away from his parents or refusing the Dark Mark, or failing his first transformation as a shaggy black dog. This is so, so much more and can bring down his carefully crafted world in one fell swoop. “Sirius, look at me.”

Familiar Gryffindor courage courses through Sirius and forces his head back to look James right in the eye. His stomach swoops and his throat goes dry. What he finds looking back at him is love—pure, unadulterated love. It steals his breath away.

“Truth or dare?” That pure Prongs grin is back, nestling itself high on James’ cheek. When Sirius doesn’t answer, he tugs on his gherkin-colored hair.

“It’s not even your turn,” he croaks in response, the weight of the words harsh in his throat.

“C’mon, play the game—truth or dare?”

“Fine. Alright. Dare.” If it means he gets to kiss James again, he’ll choose dare every single time.

  
James shifts and lifts himself onto his forearms. He’s staring down at Sirius with glittering, far-too-happy eyes. “I dare you to…unshrink my bits.”

The husky laughter that follows is swallowed by another bruising kiss. They’re left to their own devices for the night; none of the other seventh years dare disturb them. When Sirius drags James against his chest for sleep in the early hours of the morning, for the first time in a long time, he’s perfectly content.


End file.
